


Coffeshop Soundtrack

by waydurie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, John is a Flirt, M/M, Sherlock's not so shy, intense arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waydurie/pseuds/waydurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock refuses to fuel his transport with food and sleep. Detective Inspector Lestrade decides to hand Sherlock some intersting cases and Sherlock cannot simply rest until he has at least skimmed over the files once. To solve his problem, Sherlock goes to a small café near Baker street. But what will happen to him when he starts flirting with the barista?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffeshop Soundtrack

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it and please let me know if you want me to continue this story. It was sort of supposed to be a one-shot but I sort of like how I built the characters. Let me know what you think!

The body was solely transport in Sherlock's eyes. Nothing but a vessel to carry his brain. The shooting hunger pains and purple bruises under his eyes were no reasons to worry for Sherlock. In fact, Sherlock would challenge himself to survive another day without food, overstep the threshold of safety even further. As long as Sherlock could access his stored information efficiently, a cup of tea and the occasional biscuit would hold him over just fine until the case was solved.

When it came to sleeping, Sherlock made an even bigger fuss to succumbing to tedious human needs. Sherlock never wanted a single second to go unused during a case, a murderer wouldn't wait for Sherlock to catch up on his beauty sleep. If the game was on, sleep would just have to wait until Sherlock remembered why humans need it to survive, or if he collapsed in his bed first. But Sherlock Holmes never considered himself human. No, he felt like a projection of muscles and bone most of the time. Sherlock felt as if he was incapable of touching the ground. He was always hovering just above the surface and when he was close enough to the ground, an electric shock would send him back into the air. Sherlock had constant energy flowing through his veins, draining his energy, exhausting him instead of fueling him.

Detective Inspector Lestrade had just handed Sherlock several evidence folders that needed his immediate attention. Sherlock had promised to gloss over the files as he took them in his shaky hands. It has been what?-six, maybe seven days since Sherlock last slept and he would rather listen to Molly's incessant blabber on her job than admit his body needed sleep.

Sherlock decided he would avoid his bed to cram as much information he could before the inevitable crash. Naturally, that left going back to Baker street and asking Mrs Hudson to make him some tea out of the question. Just knowing he had a bed within walking distance would be appealing to his more impulsive side.

Oh how Sherlock could use some caffeine right now. He craved the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the speed of light, reeving him up for any adventure to come. He could feel his eyes drooping with every blink he took, he cringed at the thought of how unattractive he must've looked.

Finally, Sherlock's mind caught up with his thoughts and he had a startling epiphany.

All Sherlock needed was some caffeine to kick start his brain. Then, he could go over the case records and give Lestrade his insipid answers. Seriously, is the Met unable to do anything without the help of a certain (cocky) consulting detective or were they that feebleminded. Thinking over those statements, Sherlock found himself heavily trudging towards a café that was within walking distance of his flat.

The strong smell of coffee and fresh baked pastries filled Sherlock's nose, intoxicating his consciousness and luring him into the shop. Almost comically, Sherlock felt as if he were being brought into the café by the succulent fumes from within.

He pulled the glass door open and studied his surroundings. Inside the café, Sherlock noticed there were two other customers that looked like uni students taking advantage of the free wi-fi. The decoration seemed to be pieced together, no actual pattern or style the owners were trying to follow. There was a transparent shelf holding an abundance of different sweets and cakes that even made Sherlock's mouth water. _Wow_. the worn out detective was shocked, _I really must be tired if i'm craving food as well_. Sherlock thought that for a quaint café on a side street, this shop was doing well.

Sherlock's eyes then went to the menu board posted high above the pastry case. Every type of drink was written in a different color. Their fresh brews of teas were printed in neon blue chalk while their coffee grounds were in purple scripture. Sherlock had initially wanted the largest sized coffee when he had barged through the cafés door. Now that he had actually read over the selections of drinks, Sherlock found he was quite intrigued with the distinct variety.

Once he had settled on just getting a plain black coffee, two sugars, there were no employees attending the till. Sherlock felt desperate as his eyes sagged even further and started refusing to open at one point. He frustratedly stuck his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat hoping that it was enough to catch the attention of an employee in the back of the shop.

Sherlock then heard loud metal clangs followed by a string of curses, so he assumed that he had caught the attention of one of the workers. Hurried footsteps came from behind a closed curtain that lead into the inner sanctions of the shop. With the speed they were operating at, Sherlock was losing all of his patience with whomever was supposed to take his order. Quite frankly he couldn't be held responsible if someone were to cry in the next five minutes while taking his order.

From behind the tacky printed curtain appeared a man with sandy blond hair. The angels sang their holy songs and blessed the very ground the man walked on. Even the sun highlighted the golden hues in his hair making the occasional grey strand shimmer in a seductive fashion.

Sherlock wouldn't dare say he was small. However, the man was compact, but Sherlock thought it was absolutely perfect. The man was short in height, but made up for it with perfectly sculpted muscles that were poking out of his short sleeves. The outline of a Northumberland fusilier tattoo was straining against the material of his white and bulging muscle tone. The first thing that popped into Sherlock's head, _what's a sex god...I mean army man doing working in a modest café?_

"What can I get for you?" Lord have mercy on Sherlock's inexperienced soul.The short succulent man finally reached the till and smiled warmly at Sherlock, his cordial blue eyes were twinkling.

Sherlock froze once he heard the man's voice. It was nothing he had expected from an army man who had stormed Afghanistan eight months ago going by the fading tan lines. It was soft and gentle, warming Sherlock's inside like a cup of tea. Oh how he wanted to drink the man in and taste him. Sherlock must have really been tired if his mind was resorting to such ridiculous thoughts.

"A coffee would be acceptable" Sherlock pursed his lips "what would you recommend?"

No, Sherlock did not notice the creases that formed by the man's eyes as he smiled. And he definitely did not feel his stomach drop onto the floor and his heart give out completely. "Well, personally, I'm a big fan of the café _miel_ , but not everyone likes the combination of honey and cinnamon with coffee." The army veteran's grin widened and if Sherlock would have bloody fainted right there on the floor if he were in one of those crappy soap operas. Sherlock needed to get his act together because this was simply unacceptable behavior from his part. What was he thinking relying on his more carnal needs.

"Interesting" Sherlock arched his eyebrows in surprise, he was also trying to hide the blatant arousal from his face. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the coffee sort. You look more of an Twinning earl grey green tea person." Sherlock purred in a rich baritone voice, hoping this would get the man to melt in his hands and bend tho Sherlock's every whim.

But when the man to reacted, of course Sherlock wasn't watching the man's thin pink lips open and form a perfect circle that could be used in other rooms more suitable for privacy...

"How did you know that's my favorite tea?" the man place a hand on the counter, shifting most of his weight on it to stare at Sherlock with amusement on his face. Sherlock could see his the man's pupils were blown wide, the blue of his iris was a mere outline compared to the black in his eyes. Yes! Sherlock mentally congratulated himself, _he shows signs of arousal and reciprocates interest of fornication._

"I did't know," shrugged Sherlock trying to be nonchalant, but failed miserably as a foolish grin made its way on his pale lips. "I observed. But going by your reaction, I would say that I'm right about the tea."

"It's true, I do love a good cuppa in the morning. Coffee's different, it has a stronger flavor, so I prefer a touch of honey to change it up." He sent Sherlock a playful wink, and the detective would've bet a weeks worth of cases that the increase of his pulse was caused by the elevated temperature in the room.

"You take honey and a dash of milk in you tea as well; no sugar. But you couldn't possibly drink your coffee without honey and the added sucrose. Why is that? Why the change....John?" Sherlock tried to draw out his words in a seductive manner. Instead, he sounded like a three year old with a speech impediment.

Sherlock was definitely **_not_** looking at when John's lips morphed into a lopsided grin making Sherlock try to recite the periodic table backwards while simultaneously thanking every deity for allowing him to meet this earthbound angel. John was making Sherlock's day harder than usual in all senses of the word.

"Bloody hell! That was incredible" John lowered his head to stare at anything but the blazing star before him. When John finally fixed his gaze on Sherlock, daring to burn his eyes with the beauty of such an extraordinary man, the detective noticed John's carotid artery beating frantically under his tan skin. One point for Sherlock. Not that he was keeping score or anything.

A flush of pink rushed towards Sherlock's cheeks exposing pieces of his more vulnerable side, "You think so?" Sherlock innocently bit his bottom lip but began exaggerated his actions when he saw John lick his own kissable lips

"Absolutely." There was not a doubt in John's voice, only sincerity and admiration. "You said you observed me but...how? You even knew my name. How is that even possible?"

Sherlock giggled much like a school girl at John's confusion. He found John looking utterly adorable with his bemused expression. For the first time, Sherlock didn't feel exasperated because no one could comprehend his train of thought. He actually found it charming that John was so eager to look inside Sherlock's brain because he seemed genuine, unlike everyone else, John wasn't going to poke fun Sherlock's deductions once he was done.

"You see, John but you do not observe. If one looked at the tea offered at this café, they would see that earl grey green tea is not an option, yet there is an empty box of Twinning's sitting on the counter. Clearly, someone working at the café brews their own tea during breaks instead of using the shops brews. How do I know it's not any of your co-workers? Well, the shopping list thats sticking out of your back pocket is a massive give away.

"The pot of honey is located next to the coffee machine and the tea kettle. Easier access for which ever drink suits your mood.The sugar, however, is placed away from the kettle opposite of the coffee machine. Indicates use but not frequently. Not to mention, the milky stain by your collar is very attractive, I hear it's in style these days with the younger generation." Sherlock finished with a flourish and despite his bloodshot eyes and greasy hair, he felt on top of the world. Forget about getting coffee, all he needed was a fresh dose of John daily and he would be good to go for a whole day.

"You are simply remarkable." John looked at Sherlock with such curiosity. Desire oozing from his pores as they met each others gaze wandering through the cosmos between the super novas. "I don't even know your name." John breathed out as realization hit him like a truck.

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes." He extended his hand to John. John stared at Sherlock's long pale fingers and felt phantom touches on his growing arousal.

"Sherlock" John repeated the name of the adonis before him, tasting the sharp constant and smooth vowels savoring rolling off of his tongue. John wondered how Sherlock's name would sound in between needy moans and breathless kisses."That's a name I haven't heard before."

John's hand connected with Sherlock's, glittering stars shimmered and sparkled, universes exploded, their hearts beat in unison. "I've been previously informed all throughout my education of the fact." Sherlock gave John a weaker,but it was a smile nonetheless. If it were anyone else, they would received a menacing scowl and an cold hearted comment. But this was John. His John, or soon-to-be John. The veteran barista Sherlock had met eight minutes ago and has a complicated relationship with what he puts in his coffee and tea.

John's smile faltered, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"Don't." Sherlock held his hand up dismissively, John relaxed when he saw that Sherlock was not offended. It was quite obvious by the mischievous grin on his face. "I especially enjoy the way you say my name. I think I'll take that café _miel_ now if you don't mind." Sherlock practically growled at John, his lips curled into an irresistibly kissable smile.  
 

"Coming right up." John sent Sherlock a sultry wink and dear god he hoped John couldn't see the way Sherlock was fumbling with the buttons on his coat trying to maintain a modicum of decency. It wasn't that he cared if John saw his blatant arousal, he just didn't want an audience during their flirting escapades. Like they say, what happens in small London café stays in a small London café. Or was that Vegas? Tedious.

John began to spoon some coffee grounds into the strainer and proceeded to flip some switches on the machine. What actually attracted Sherlock's attention were the bulging muscles threatening to rip out of John's shirt. In one swift movement, John swung a cleaning rag onto his shoulder and an electric spark of arousal surged through Sherlock's body. "You still haven't told me how you knew my name."

Sherlock jumped when he heard John's voice pull him out of his fantasies. "Oh, its on your name tag." Sherlock decided to dabble in his flirting expertise, he decided to lightly flick John's name tag sitting just below his collarbone.

John looked down at his chest to where the detective had touched him, a wicked grin unfurled on his lips. "Forgot about that. Its pretty hard to remember anything when you're here." John gave Sherlock a timid but coquettish smile, a comfortable silence settled over the two men, only the hissing boil of the water was heard above the clicking of the keyboards. _I must dreaming,_ sighed Sherlock. _But if I am, I hope I never wake up. Please, never let me wake up._

The sweet, floral smell of honey captured Sherlock's attention, when he looked up he saw John pouring a healthy dose of liquid sweetness into a paper cup. When John set the honey dipper back into the honey pot, a long, thin glob of the syrupy sweet dripped down the side of his hand. A pale pink tongue peaked out of John's lips as he obscenely licked the trail of honey, swirling away at the viscous gloop while staring right into Sherlock's eyes. Once the ridiculous gyrating of John's tongue was insufficient, he then resulted to suck on the dirtied spot. Oh how John made sure to smack his lips when he was satisfied that Sherlock was squirming enough in his pants. Sherlock found himself holding the urge to grab John and lick every inch of the man's body. He tried to imagine John with his sweet coated lips against his, licking the insides of his mouth with that honey coated tongue. The herbaceous notes intertwining with the subtle trace of smoke from the cigarette he stole from a PC earlier. At the rate that Sherlock's imagination was progressing, holding in filthy, bedroom worthy moan wouldn't be his only problem when he felt the definitely interested twitch in his pants. Sherlock brought the coat around his torso even tighter to prevent any wandering eyes from looking at the miracle John had accomplished. It had been centuries since Sherlock had gotten aroused simply from talking and no form of stimuli. Oh John!

John arrived at the till with Sherlock's coffee cup. "Since you put on such a nice show earlier, I decided to add a dash of my secret ingredient. Just don't tell anyone or I might get hashtaged by college hipsters."

Sherlock couldn't his heart beat . Not even when the oxygen in his body dissipate and every cell in his body slowly started to scream. Sherlock had to reming himself how to breath because John would surely be the death of him. And believe Sherlock when he says he would have no problem writing his cause of death on his gravestone _'he died happily in the presence of the sexy barista, John.'_

"Thank you." Sherlock tucked a loose chocolate curl behind his ear, he tried to hide how his fingers stuck to the oily tangles in his hair. His eyes were focused on Sherlock's alabaster fingers and his jaw a bit as John pictured his golden fingers in replacement of Sherlock's. "Your secret's safe with me. Wouldn't want anyone to harm my favorite barista." Another point for Sherlock as he saw the most alluring blush blossom on John's face. Sherlock was surprised he had the guts to flirt with such a beautiful specimen, let alone flirt so effortlessly. But of course, he _is_ Sherlock Holmes and everything he does is absolutely flawless.

"Is that what you say to everyone who makes you coffee?" He pointedly raised one blond eyebrow. A wolfish grin appeared on John's face and Sherlock immediately wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face...using his lips. Just his lips. But if other body parts were to get involved, Sherlock thought he could make an exception, anything for John.

"No," Sherlock took the scalding cup in his hands gently blowing the steam the billowed from the top. "only army veterans with a psychosomatic limp and _choose_ to work in a café after getting shot."

"How...i'm not even going to ask." John's face softened and Sherlock froze for a few seconds. His deduction have been known to tear away at the privacy of others and John was the last person oh earth he ever wanted to chase away with his little knowledge on human nature. Sherlock simply wanted to show his beloved John that he knew about his military past and admired him, adored him for his inspiring bravery. "That was... You are honestly talented --brilliant actually. You know, brain is the new sexy.

John smiled widely and Sherlock felt his heart sing in his chest. "Your tattoo." Sherlock stuttered over his words as he pointed to John's upper arm. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan." He lifted the short sleeve of his shirt, his delicious tattooed on display before Sherlock's hungry eyes. Sherlock's fingers were twitching by his side that he had to clench his hand into a fist to cease their incessant motions. How he wanted to touch John's tattoo, run his lips over the outlined skin, and then press gentle kisses until he reached John's mouth. "I've always wanted a tattoo, but I never had a good reason to go out of my way to get one." He shrugged light heartedly. " After I came home from the war, I thought it would be appropriate to ink my self up for Queen and Country. You know, for honor and stuff."

"So that's what soldiers do after they get sent home. Ink themselves up for Britannia, for honor and stuff." Sherlock's words were dripping with sarcasm and the smirk on his face made John want to pull the lapels of his coat and shove him against a wall, and show Sherlock that sarcasm was not only encouraged but a bloody turn on. _Holy hell_ , John was doomed. He might have well just sold his soul to the devil and that would still be better than having your heart taken hostage by one Sherlock Holmes.

"Nah. Just invalided soldiers who _dream_ of working in cafés that pay minimum wage." Both men burst into a thunderous roar of laughter, tears pooled at the corner of their eyes with each failed intake of breath. Just looking at each other would set them off into another reel of embarrassing guffaws.

"Thank you, John." Sherlock was the first to regain his composure, he watched John wipe his hands on his apron, and comb a hand through his sandy hair. One of the students that had been sitting at the shop made their way to the door and exited the shop. The shrill of the bell over the door went off bringing both men into the present.

"What are you thanking me for?" He looked at Sherlock with a puzzled face. How did this man not know the miracle he had just preformed by getting Sherlock to laugh? To truly laugh, not follow social cues and act his way through human interactions.

"For making me laugh, John." Sherlock stared at John with his ever-changing verdigris eyes. "The last time I genuinely laughed was when I was twelve, that was until I met you. Thank you, I guess for being you."

John wanted to cradle the tall man into his arms and hold him for days, weeks, years if he could, maybe he would find a way to stop time and share an eternity with Sherlock nestled in the comfort of his arms. Sherlock deserved so much more than to live his life in misery. John felt the fire in his heart slowly extinguish with the images of a sad Sherlock. But when John remembered Sherlock say how he had brought back the light into the detective's life, the barista decided to make it his duty to keep the flame lit for every single second he was alive and fighting.

"It was my pleasure to make you happy, Sherlock. You deserve it." Yet again the look of shock arose in Sherlock's eyes and John found his blood boiling with rage at the thought of someone hurting the beautiful angel in front of him.

"Oh?" Sherlock gapped at John, eyes wider than those of an owl. "Y-you mean that?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't be saying it if I didn't mean it." John decided to be take a chance in his life, it wasn't like he was getting any younger. Everyday he would return to the terrible bedsit he lived in and dreaded waking up for the next day. He had finally found his reason to wake up the next day and he wasn't going to let it pass him by.

During their heart to heart, Sherlock had inched closer to the till making him not even a foots distance from John's reach. _Here goes nothing_ , John took a deep inhale and lifted his trembling left hand towards Sherlock's face. His fingers settled under the man's slender jaw with his reaching over to tenderly caress the edge of Sherlock's cheekbone with his thumb. John felt the sharp contrast of his calloused fingers glide over the smooth porcelain of Sherlock's face. Their hearts once again raced beyond the limits of normalcy until they synchronized in a world where only Sherlock and John existed.

Sherlock froze when he felt John touch him with such fragility, almost as if he were human --precious. "That's not what people usually say."

"What do they usually say to you, Sherlock." John stilled his thumb to focus solely on Sherlock's eyes, not wanting to miss any emotion that may not transfer itself into words.

Yet there it was, hidden in plain sight with every word Sherlock said, "Piss off, freak." The army veteran was not in the mood when Sherlock tried to cover up his discomfort with an empty laugh.

"Don't you ever listen to those bastards. Sherlock you are the most unbelievable person I have ever met and don't you go thinking anything else, yeah?" John spoke in a low, grumbling tone for Sherlock to understand how serious he was. Sure, they might have met less than twenty minutes ago, but John had never felt his bones quake, his heart ache, and earth quake before he met Sherlock. Now, he couldn't imagine his life with his knees constantly feeling like jelly or his brain fried because he doesn't know what to say.

"Okay. If you say so" Sherlock leaned his head towards John's hand, memorizing the way his every nerve combusted when John merely touched his skin. If Sherlock were never to see John again, he at least wanted to remember this moment of unadulterated bliss.

John opted to speak through actions instead of words, besides he was always rap at words anyways. His thumb traveled down from Sherlock's cheek to trace the top lip of the detective's mouth with a feather light touch. A veil of something much more than lust shielded the two men from the harsh reality.

Sherlock had absolutely no problem with John stroking his face, but now he could feel the adrenaline fade from his veins and he remembered why he had gone to get coffee in the first place. He wearily looked at John, sad that the inevitable parting time had come and he didn't want to be the bearer of bad news

"I should be going..." Sherlock made absolutely no indication that he wanted to leave or even move from his current position. "Would you mind ringing me up?" He hesitantly pulled away from John's addictive hold and stood as straight as a man that hasn't slept in approximately a hundred and forty hours.

He tried to pull his wallet from the back pocket of his trousers when John held his hand up, "No, its on me." John took Sherlock's coffee cup into his hand and with a pen, he jotted something down before handing it back. Their fingers brushed for a heavenly second, John might've gotten distracted by the stars that flashed across his eyes. "Consider it a token of my gratitude for making my day so incredible."

A crimson blush spread across Sherlock's cheeks like butter, "If I would've know all it took was for me to deduce how you take your tea, trust me I would've done it much sooner."

"Seriously, Sherlock. These last few minutes with you have been the most exciting in the last couple of months." John had the most gorgeous glimmer in his eyes and Sherlock inched closer towards the till, a ravishing desire rippled through his body.

"Didn't you invade Afghanistan?"

"Yep," John put emphasis on the last letter of the word with a popping sound that remind Sherlock of another situation he would like to hear John make that noise. "and you walked in here with your sexy brain and swept me off of my feet."

"Well, considering you the fact you have a limp, it didn't take much from my part." the lopsided grin Sherlock gave John could be found next to the definition of smug in the dictionary.

John let out a bark of laughter, "You sure know how to put me under your spell. Thank you."

"I have you under my spell, huh? How did I get so lucky?" Sherlock placed his hand on the counter, leaning towards John's intoxicating smell of green tea and honey. Never had Sherlock smelled something more enticing than John, his heart was thrumming wildly like hummingbirds wings. Not even a triple homicide could have ever gotten Sherlock to this level of excitation. He wanted to bottle John's essence and store it inside his soul for eternity.

"Then you won't object using my number after all. I might have written it on your coffee cup in case you wanted to test your magical powers. I would hate having to wait by the phone for you to call." John too placed his hand on the counter. However, John did Sherlock one better and settled the tips of his fingers over Sherlock's, their heads coming together like magnets. John could smell a faint smell of aftershave and stale cigarettes which normally would've turned him off, but on Sherlock, the combination simply worked. It was another exception John was willing to guilty accept because Sherlock was _Sherlock_.

"That should be the least of your worries, John. I promise to make use of your mobile number." Sherlock close his eyes one last time and breathed, blowing a huff of air into John's direction, sending the blond man into a drunken stupor.

With a swish of his wool coat, Sherlock grabbed his drink and stepped out of the door for he knew that a new adventure has just started.


End file.
